Rigging The Mirror Poem by Jean Bernard Parr

You don't want to be indoors
so I went to the shore
and there was the little
wooden boat cocooned
pulling back the cover
is like opening a present
at Christmas but then after
I had hoisted those red sails
it was poppy short the time
I had with her, and trying
new knots the sun got level
with some goalposts, it was
the squeals out of school
my real clock I looked out
at fading blues and greys
shadow puppet houses marching
down the Point, then I got
to feel, had I missed something
tying knots, something subtle?
no hurtling asteroid thunderclap
but maybe a flight of geese
with their squeaky wings
or just wavelets practice
folding over a mop of weed,
look, how they do it for real